by Ryan Fang
Quintus saw an image of a hand on the wall of his house. A chill ran through his body and his knees went slack. No one had ever seen the painting in the main hall before. It felt alive, almost too real. The painting was basically, “moving” and Quintus felt its presence. Except the painting was rotten. It stood out from the bright and golden household. Its creepy vibe did not match the main hall, so Quintus requested that it be taken down.
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The next day, Quintus walked to the main hall to see the painting still hanging. Now it was the hand itself that had become rotten.
“What is this mockery!” Quintus exclaimed. Quintus strolled to the slave house furiously. Knocking on the door loudly, he discovered that it seemed unlocked. As he opened the creaky door an atrocious smell of putrid flesh filled the house. The room was empty, but Quintus shivered with fear. Rushing back to the painting, the smell followed him. A ring with initials was now forming on the hand.
“Who dares trick me like I am a fool? Come out!”
The tapestry began to shake and powerful winds echoed throughout the halls. Snow started to fall, shocking Quintus.
“Est in medio aestatis!” Quintus cried out. “This is impossible!”
He opened the doors of the main hall, only to get hit with the instant knockback of a hefty breeze. All around him he saw stains of dark spots and thick fog. The air smelled bitter and Quintus began to choke on the “snow.” It was not snow, but ashes, floating down from the sky. The earth suddenly trembled thunderously, and an explosion shook everything. The astonished Quintus ran back into the house in a hurry. Panicking, Quintus screamed at the top of his lungs, and couldn’t think rationally.
“I will perish if I stay here! I need to evacuate.”
Then a sudden, zombified groan vibrated along the walls, coming from the direction of the painting.
“Will you leave me again, Quintus? Leave me here to perish on my own so you yourself may live!”
A corpse crawled out from the painting and started to run after Quintus. Quintus ran for his life away from the zombie. Then the tremors shook intensely, causing Quintus to trip. The house started to break down and everything started to collapse.
“Ignave fili!. Saving yourself while letting the rest of your family die!”
“Please spare me! I do not wish to die.”
Suddenly the wall broke, tumbling onto Quintus and burying him in its rubble.
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Quintus jolted up from his bed in a frenzy, covered with sweat. Clemens, in a daze, realized it was a nightmare and was extremely relieved. Without another second to process his thoughts, the slave called for Quintus.
“Master, please come here! There is a strange object in the main hall. It appears to be an odd piece of art: a painting of a hand.”